After the Apocalypse
by Riza Winters
Summary: A continuation of Grimmjow's adventures after the story Apocalypse. Meant to be a sort of collection of stories tracking his journey across the post-Clash world. Current arc is set in China. I don't want to say too much, in case you haven't yet read Apocalypse!
1. Testing the Waters

A steady rain of water pelted down on blue hair and bare shoulders. The waterfall thundered next to the barefoot warrior who ducked his head under the spray just long enough to blast the dirt and sweat that had accumulated along his scalp.

"Why don't you come for a swim?" An overly cheery voice called him. He glanced out to the basin of cold, fresh water and the bobbing pink head at the center of it.

"I don't do, _swimming_."

"He means he doesn't know how," Toshiro corrected from the side of the pool. He was just drawing his shirt up over thin shoulders. Like Grimmjow, however, he didn't remove the sword on his back.

"Fuck you, Toshiro."

"It's true though, isn't it?" he asked, stepping out of his pants and tossing them with the rest of their combined clothing on the shore. He stepped into the frigid water as if it was a warm bath. The cold never bothered him.

"Weren't no water in Hueco Mundo, idiot."

"No grammar either, huh?"

Grimmjow bristled. The white haired teen didn't smirk at him, but that only made it worse. Toshiro could piss him off like no one else.

"Just try it!" Yachiru suggested as she splashed around.

"No thanks." Grimmjow continued his shower at the edge of the waterfall and ignored the teens splashing around at ease in the water. He had gotten through that swamp with Ichigo, but that hadn't really been swimming. He couldn't even see the bottom of this catch-basin where Toshiro and Yachiru were swimming. It was eerie and unnatural to him. Besides, one of them should stay out and keep watch over their belongings.

It had been a challenging week in mainland China. Ichigo's message of good will clearly hadn't spread beyond the islands of Japan. The three quickly realized their mission to reunite the lost soldiers of the war might be eclipsed by a greater mission: survival. Grimmjow knew Toshiro would want to spread the word about Ichigo, the end of the post-clash world—all of it. He supposed it didn't make much difference, it would just cause them more trouble—and that, he didn't really mind.

"Whoa, Toshiro!" He turned back to the teens at the awe-filled words. He saw the pair staring at the water's surface where Toshiro held a finger just barely touching down on the water. His face was creased in concentration, and surrounding his finger was white, solid matter: ice.

"Hey!" Grimmjow called and moved away from the waterfall at once. "Stop it!"

Toshiro withdrew his finger at once and shook himself, as if he'd forgotten what he was doing.

"You know playing around with your spiritual pressure is costly," Grimmjow reprimanded. Though the children had successfully regained the ability to perform flashstep, it wasn't without consequence. They were often tired and excessively hungry following any use of spiritual energy.

"You're just jealous," Yachiru argued.

"No, he's right," Toshiro said. "I apologize." He withdrew from the water, dried and changed.

Grimmjow let his back and pants dry off for a while and sat back on a flat rock in the sun. Yachiru continued to play in the water for quite some time. It didn't matter. They had supplies for the night and had already decided to make camp in an overgrown shrine just a few hundred meters from the waterfall.

While he was sitting he heard a chime come from his discarded jacket. He reached into the pocket and drew out the soul pager.

"Yo," he greeted when he flipped it on.

A light voice answered him. "Hi Grimmjow."

"Oh hey, Yuzu."

"I just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing."

"Fine," he watched Yachiru climb up on a protruding rock and proceed to do a cannon ball into the water. "Well, as fine as I can be babysitting these guys."

"Grimmjow…"

"Yeah yeah, I know, be nice, but you know me Yuzu."

"Yes, I do."

He scowled, but with her, he couldn't use his usual retorts. "You know what I mean, kid."

"I do. You'll like them more when you get to know them."

"Toshiro's like a walking dictionary and Yachiru's like six years old."

"More like twelve, Grimmjow. There's a big difference."

"Whatever."

He heard her conceal a chuckle. He rolled his eyes. "Well what's up with you an' the reapers?"

"I wish you wouldn't say that like it's a bad word."

"It _is_ a bad word." A sigh. "Yeah, yeah, save the lecture, you're right," he conceded quickly. He escaped the lecture and got an update about a sudden swell of souls from Northern China and an investigation into what was going on there. Grimmjow returned his gaze to the children. If he could just learn to tap into his spiritual pressure like them, he could go up North and find out for himself what was going on.

"I know what you're thinking, Grimmjow, and just give it time. Your spiritual pressure was depleted at the Restoration. It will take longer for you to be able to draw on your spiritual pressure than other people."

"And it might never happen," he grumbled. Rukia hadn't even shown signs of being able to use hers yet.

"I'd tell you to be patient, but I know you too well."

"Yeah." He leaned back and stared up at the bright blue sky. "You don't got any tips or anything?"

"No."

"Shit."

"You'll be fine."

"Of course I will, but I'd be better if I could fucking sonido. Wipe that smirk off Toshiro's face at least."

He heard her laugh. There wasn't much else to say. After a quick goodbye, they disconnected. He put the soul pager back in his jacket and returned his gaze to the pool of water, now empty. In start, he realized Yachiru was nowhere in sight.

"Where is she?" He stood up and followed Toshiro's gaze. The boy was calmly staring right back at Grimmjow.

Two hands slammed into his lower back, harder than a normal child could deliver. He staggered off the edge of the bank and got a brief glimpse of Yachiru's bright smile before he plunged beneath the ice cold surface of the water.

The cold was bone deep. How had she been swimming carelessly in it? His breath escaped him in a multitude of white bubbles. He waved his hands frantically, trying to claw his way back to the surface.

"You're dead!" he screamed the moment he refilled his lungs upon breaking the surface. He kicked frantically to keep his head above water and worked his arms awkwardly back and forth.

"You need to know how to swim!" She smiled down on him. Toshiro had now come to join her.

"Yachiru, you shouldn't have pushed him in," he reprimanded. "He could have drowned."

"He'd just go to Soul Society."

"You're psychotic!" Grimmjow was slowly working his way toward shallow water.

"You're doing it wrong!" She ignored his comment and followed him along the shore, shouting instructions on how to better tread his way through water. He ignored them all until he was on all fours, panting on the shore.

"You better start running," he threatened as he regained his breath.

"You'll never catch either of us," Toshiro reminded. "Besides, she wasn't wrong, you really should learn how to swim."

"Fuck the both of you."

"You're choice," Toshiro shrugged. "If you want to drown next time we need to cross a pond, be my guest."

Grimmjow bristled. Why the fuck had he ever agreed to join these two?

"I'm going to start a fire for supper," Toshiro said after a moment. The pair went off toward the shrine and left Grimmjow in his soaked pants on the water's edge.

"I can't believe you didn't strangle her."

He didn't even look up at the new voice. "You wanna take her place, Kurosaki?"

"Well, you'd be hard put to kill me, since I'm already dead."

"Yeah, don't remind me." He sat back on the sparse grass. "If you were still alive, you'd be the one travelling with me and not them."

"True." Ichigo unstrapped the sword from his shoulder and set it on the shore. Next he removed his haori. "But they weren't wrong. You really should learn how to swim."

"Not you too…" Ichigo stripped to his underwear and stepped out into the water. Grimmjow didn't join him right away. "Were you up North?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Yuzu called. What's going on up there?"

"Trouble." Ichigo was up to his waist but went no further. His face betrayed his worry.

"What? Shouldn't be anything you can't handle."

"That's the thing, Grimmjow. I can handle anything. But should I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not, God. Just how much should I interfere in things in the world of the living?"

"Well you are the one who said he was going to restore order."

"No, I didn't. I said _you_ should—the people still alive here. Soul Reapers were never supposed to rule over this world."

"So tell me about up North. What's got your panties in a twist?"

"Just the violence—gangs that have formed and are fighting one another for control. I think they plan on trying to rule China, almost like the old rulers."

"Just crush them with your spiritual pressure."

"Again, not really what Soul Reapers are supposed to do."

"Well, then that's where we'll head next. I don't mind kicking some ass."

"I know you don't, but I'm pretty sure the situation is bigger than the three of you can handle."

"Fuck that." Grimmjow stood up now and undid his pants. He rung them out with annoyance and spread them over a rock. "What the hell's the point of this mission if we don't get to fight some people?" He stepped back into the water and tried not to let Ichigo see him cringe in the cold.

"There will be plenty of people to fight everywhere else you go."

"Yeah, but then who'll solve your moral dilemma for you?"

"Grimmjow, the day you solve anything moral for me is the day I retire and hand over Soul Society to you."

"Yeah, and the day I'm a reaper really will be the end of existence. Just fucking show me what to do."

They swam until the sun began to sink and Toshiro called that food was prepared.

"I should get back," Ichigo said before they joined the others. Grimmjow rolled his shirt over his shoulders and Ichigo strapped his sword back on. "I just thought I'd stop by, since I was already over here."

"You don't have to babysit me, if that's what you're doing."

"I know, that's Toshiro's job."

Grimmjow's shoulders bunched and he cursed him out while Ichigo laughed.

"Seriously though, I'm glad you're with them. They don't think they need help, but some adult supervision is required in this world."

"Don't patronize me. I know I'm the weak link here."

"Trust me, you aren't, Grimmjow." When he said it, Grimmjow couldn't detect the lie.

"Fine. I'll keep them out of trouble as much as I can."

"Good, because there is a lot of trouble out there. Keep your pager close. If things ever get too much—"

"I'll handle it."

"Don't be stubborn."

"Me? I don't know the meaning of the word," he smirked, Ichigo did too. They left it at that.

"See you later, Grimmjow."

He crossed back into his realm. Grimmjow turned back to the fire and the children who'd already started eating without him.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Toshiro asked when Grimmjow joined them.

"Tomorrow, we head North."

* * *

 ** _I just couldn't let go! I don't want to write another epic saga, but I wouldn't mind having a few snapshots of Grimmjow's journey with the "twerps." And Ichigo will be making frequent appearances. I'll update as inspiration strikes, please "follow" if you are interested._**

 _Also, I have a question_ ** _:_** _does anyone know if it's ever been mentioned in the canon if Soul Reapers can speak multiple languages? As I write about them travelling the world, I am wondering if Soul Reapers are able to communicate in all languages or if the ones from Seireitei just correspond to Japan...? I am just trying to figure out if Yachiru and Toshiro might be able to speak other languages or if Ichigo, now that he is a full-fledged soul reaper, might have some ability to understand all languages._

 _ **Thanks,**_

 _ **Riza.**_


	2. Grown Up

"I don't like the looks of it."

"What? But it will take way longer to go around."

"Yachiru, this town is dead, there must be a reason."

The three stood overlooking a town of mixed low-rise and high-rise buildings, packed tightly together. An old sky-train was in sight, a crumpled mess dangling from its track. The roads were jammed with dead cars. But there looked to be enough shelter and potential resources that it was strange not to see signs of life.

"We're close to Beijing," Grimmjow commented, looking at the lines on his map. They all converged on the city, a day or two from here."

"Are we going there?" Yachiru asked.

"No. The clans are farther North. From where we are here…" he traced a line with his finger, "it looks like the most direct route will take us there without entering the city."

They'd been chasing rumours about the warring clans. Rumours were becoming reality more and more every day as the violence around them increased. But here, they stood on the precipice of silence. After days of wading through packed streets and fending off thieves and scavengers, they were suddenly completely alone.

"If no one is here, they must have a reason," Toshiro said.

"But she's right, it will take longer to go around."

"We aren't in a race, Jaggerjaques. Besides, the more people we see, the better chance we'll see someone we know."

"I guess…" he folded up the map and replaced it in his bag. "But I want to know what's in there."

"Could be toxic, like Fukushima."

Grimmjow frowned. The boy was right, it might be something like that, but somehow, he didn't think so.  
"You two can go around, I'll meet you on the other side."

"You want to split up?"

"Just for a bit."

"No, I want to go too!" Yachiru argued. "Let's go straight through."

Grimmjow looked to her, then to Toshiro. "Two against one, kid."

"It's a bad decision, Jaggerjaques."

"You're probably right." But he proceeded down the bank with Yachiru hot on his heels and Toshiro had little choice but to follow.

* * *

They walked for two kilometers without incident. They saw no signs of toxins or radiation. But they did see that this place had been looted to the full extent. Anything on ground-level was smashed in and emptied of useful resources. More cars than normal choked the roadways, baked remains trapped inside them. The air was foul and dry. There were no signs of water here. There was little mystery left as to why no one chose to stay in this town.

"Well at least we'll get through soon." Grimmjow pointed ahead to the inclining road. There was a merge to a highway within sight. "I think that will take us where we're going."

"Good, but it's getting dark."

"Yeah," Grimmjow cast his eyes around. This place wouldn't be pleasant to stay in, but probably fairly safe. "We should get off the ground, keep watch from up high." He nodded to a building that looked to be structurally sound. They made their way through the broken lobby of a business complex. After several flights of stairs, Grimmjow rammed his shoulder into a door and got them onto the landing of an office floor with rows and rows of cubicles.

"What's this place?" Yachiru asked. Grimmjow knew from his experience walking around Japan but Toshiro explained about the strange lives of people who worked on the now blank machines at the desks, processing paperwork and information.

"So it's Hell," Grimmjow concluded. He spotted a tall machine at one end of the room and went over to it. He gave it a hard whack but nothing came out. Judging by the indentations on the vending machine, someone had already emptied it.

"Hope we have some food left," he grumbled.

"Some." Toshiro pulled out their rations. They were getting low. Tomorrow they'd have to take time to barter for some more.

They set up camp in a corner office, where they could look out on the streets in two directions. Toshiro spread out their food and Yachiru spun around on the office chair. Grimmjow watched the dead streets. The sun set while they ate, and it was quite dark when they cleared a space to sleep.

"Is it all clear?" Toshiro joined Grimmjow at the window.

Grimmjow nodded slowly.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. I just feel like—" He caught movement at the edge of a building on ground level. He leaned closer. "There's someone there."

"Other travelers?" Toshiro's eyes weren't as sharp as Grimmjow's in the night.

"No. They moved quickly, like they knew where they were going."

"Then maybe someone does live here. It just means we must keep watch."

"Yeah. You two sleep first." Toshiro nodded. Grimmjow rarely allowed one of the children to take watch before him, always wanting to have a good lay of the land in case things went bad in the night.

The children fell asleep quickly. Grimmjow stood vigil for a long time, looking at the dark expanse below. The moon was only half full and it was high. It was barely light enough for his eyes to catch anything.

But he did. He saw another shadow, skirting a building, dodging between cars and then disappearing through a broken window of a shop. He wondered why they bothered running in such a way, as if they were hiding.

Hiding from someone who could only see them from above.

He glanced at the other buildings around them. They had chosen the tallest in this part of town. He saw no signs of light or life in the other high rises. He took a step back from the window and looked at the door to the stairwell.

Was it possible the people were hiding from them? If so, it meant they knew where they were taking shelter.

"Boy." He shook Toshiro's shoulder. Sharp eyes shot open at once. He was never groggy from sleep, unlike Yachiru, as if he never truly let himself slip under. "I think they know we're here."

He sat up at once and followed Grimmjow's gaze to the far end of the pool of cubicles.

"I'll barricade that door. You check for other entrances," Toshiro said.

"Okay."

"Yachiru!" Toshiro had to shake her awake. He put her in charge of watching the window. She yawned and stretched and leaned against the large pane. Grimmjow and Toshiro split up to get the doors.

Grimmjow heard Toshiro moving something by the door. He scanned the dark and checked several doors but they all lead to other offices or storage rooms.

"That's the only one," Grimmjow called back. All he heard was grunting. He moved back over to Toshiro and saw him struggling with a filing cabinet. He half grinned.

"Need a hand, squirt?"

Teal eyes shot to him in anger. Toshiro stepped away from the cabinet in annoyance and opened his mouth for some retort, but before he could speak, the door he'd been trying to block flew open.

"Toshiro!" Grimmjow warned but in a second the door slammed shut again. He blinked in confusion, and stared at the shut door. "Toshiro?"

The teen was gone.

"YACHIRU!" He screamed over his shoulder but raced forward and threw the door open. He stared into the dark of the empty stairwell. "Toshiro!" His voice bounced off walls, but it was all that returned to him. Where the hell had the kid gone?

"Grimmjow." Yachiru was hurrying his way. "Where is he?"

Her voice was unusually quiet. He saw the panic in her eyes. The children were never separated. They always had one another's backs.

"I don't know. Come here. I think something took him."

She glanced around and started toward him. Then she stopped dead, eyes widening.

"Girl?" Wind rushed past him. Something struck his shoulder and he fell to the ground. He was unhurt but confused and looked up to see a swirl of papers left in the wake of a high velocity wind. He shook himself and squinted into the dark. "Fuck! YACHIRU!"

The room around him was empty. He was alone.

Where the hell had they gone? He'd seen nothing, and yet, he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the feeling of wind rushing past him like that. It happened all the time when Yachiru and Toshiro used flashstep around him.

"Yachiru!" He tried vainly again and stood up, standing at the top of the stairs and staring down into the spiralling darkness.

He saw nothing, but he had no choice. He ran headlong down the dark flights of stairs.

Just a few steps down something struck him again, and just as he fell he knew for certain—the precision of the strike, the rush of wind—someone was here, and that someone did not want him to follow.

He certainly couldn't when he rolled down several hard steps and face planted against the wall.

* * *

Grimmjow woke face down on gray tile. His legs were still on the stairs behind him, the rest of him sprawled on the landing. He tentatively pressed his hands into the floor and sat up.

He groaned loudly and sat with his back to the railing, taking a moment to catch his breath. The stairs hadn't actually done him much damage, but the wall at the end of the landing had knocked him out cold. He touched the lump on his forehead and felt only a little blood dried there. He looked at the next flight and knew it could have been much worse if he hadn't stopped there.

"Fuck." He used the railing to help him stand. His ankle throbbed but took his weight. His ribs ached but nothing was broken. He had to shake it off and figure out what the hell had just happened.

It was still dark. He took this as a good sign that he hadn't been out too long. He reached for his sword. Fuck. He searched around the dark but it was gone. He started patting himself over and realized other things were missing too: concealed knives, a lighter, and his soul pager. Shit.

He returned to the office and found the packs still there, but they had no weapons, just some water and food. He grabbed what was left and then made his way carefully down the rest of the stairs, but his instincts told him he was alone now. He indeed saw no signs of life anywhere in his descent.

In the lobby he stopped to take stalk. He drank some of their dwindling supply of water and ran his hands over his eyes trying to clear some of the lingering grogginess from the strike to his head. He listened for a long time, trying to distinguish any noises in the dark, but again, he felt he was alone. Whoever had taken the kids was gone and now he had to find out where.

He could see the moon was lower. He didn't want to lose more time but if he waited until dawn he might be able to see some clues. He sat back in a chair behind a rounded desk with dead monitors. He opened a few drawers but they had nothing of use in them. He spun and his foot knocked something over. He picked it up.

It was a flashlight. He clicked it. A weak light came on. It was better than nothing. Now he could keep moving. He searched the dusty floor by the broken glass where they'd entered. He saw their footprints from earlier. Then he saw others: petite, three sets, running parallel to his own from earlier. Women, maybe. The prints were light, heavier towards the toes. They'd been sneaking up, trying to be quiet. But after a few paces the dust was cleared and then there were no more footprints. This confirmed his suspicion that their attackers were using flashstep.

"Great," he muttered. If anyone could have stopped their attackers, it would have been the children. He didn't stand much chance on his own. He wondered what type of spiritual beings they were—had they been Vandenreich? Maybe it was former soul reapers. That might be why they took the children and not him. But why grab them like that? He supposed it didn't really matter, what mattered was locating the brats before they got themselves killed.

He tried to follow the footsteps into the street but here there wasn't as much dust and the dirt that had gathered was too packed down to leave much in the way of marks. The sidewalks and pavement were no help either. He shut out his light and moved through the night, toward the place where he'd seen the person moving earlier.

He found the shop with the broken window where the person had run earlier. He stepped inside and scanned it with his light. There wasn't much to find, just an open back door where he guessed the person had gone, just using the shop as a way to conceal themselves. He moved out this way, and found many cars cluttering the road here. There seemed to be a path between the bumpers and bent metal: he could see streaks on the hoods of cars under the beam of his light and places where it looked like someone had pushed aside broken glass. He made his way along slowly, tracing the path down the street, to the other side. He noted an alley and decided to follow this. At the end was a chain-link fence but a trash can was pushed against it. He was sure now he was on the right path. He hopped the fence and scanned the dark. He looked above and all around for signs of life but there were none.

At the end of the alley he found a park. He hadn't noticed it when he'd scanned the city from the hill. In fact, it was a very small park, compared to ones he'd seen elsewhere, and there were odd metal shapes in the middle of it. One was a series of metal pipes connected to one another. Another one had chains hanging from high bars, linked by a curved seat. Another was a round platform with bars.

He remembered seeing such structures for the first time while on a walk with Rukia, when he'd been still recovering from his coma. She'd explained to him that the structures were a form of entertainment for children. He scanned the building that was closest to the property he realized what it was.

"A school…" he breathed. He couldn't read the characters on the front, but he was pretty sure that's what the building was. He remembered the size of the footprints which he'd thought belonged to women but now another thought occurred to him, which might also explain why only Toshiro and Yachiru were taken. "Children…" But what other children did they know who'd had spiritual pressure from before? Could be Vandenreich, he'd never known the full extent of their army or their civilians.

"Shit," he set down their packs on the front steps and stared at the doors through the dark. The sun was starting to come up. In a few minutes he'd have more light, but he didn't want to wait. They probably already knew he was here now anyway.

He left their supplies behind and held the flashlight as his only weapon. He advanced up the steps and toward the front doors. The glass was blacked out on them, he couldn't see through. He used the butt of the flashlight to break through one and undo the lock. Once inside he was very careful. If they used flashstep he couldn't even see them coming.

He moved forward a step before he caught sight of the wire. It was ankle height. He traced it over the floor but didn't see what it connected to. He stepped over it and barely saw the next one at head level. He avoided this as well. Great. He'd never get anywhere at this pace, but it was clear someone had taken exhaustive precautions against intruders.

He looked around the open space he'd stepped into. There were benches and trash cans and murals on the walls. The dawn light was revealing more to him by the second. The lobby was two stories tall. He saw a landing above that overlooked the whole place, and stepped back from it was an office with glass windows. Attached to this landing he saw gears and a long cable. It touched the floor in a loop. He shook his head—it was obviously another trap. He scanned for other, less obvious defenses. But many were blatantly apparent, like pails of rocks at the top of another landing, or the additional wires he spotted near a bay of lockers at the entrance to another hallway.

This added to his belief he'd stepped into a den of children. Most adults wouldn't leave their traps so open, and they probably would have designed more lethal ones.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Maybe he should just call them out, see what happened if he faced them.

"Yo," he called into the dark. He heard a startled breath. Yep, they were watching him, somewhere above. "Listen, just tell me where you took the two kids."

Silence. He kept scanning the room, waiting for them to reveal themselves. He caught movement down the hallways. So there were more down on his level. How many, he wondered.

"Come on, let's do this the easy way."

"Okay." The voice caught him off guard. He looked up too late and barely stepped out of the way of the arrow. It clattered over the floor next to him. He saw the tip and guessed it probably wouldn't have done him much damage anyway. The person who'd shot it had ducked out of the way but another stood up. This time he was ready. The shot was weak and didn't have the speed of someone properly trained with the weapon. Grimmjow caught it out of the air. The tip was definitely too blunt to be lethal unless they were really, really lucky.

"Come off it," he tossed the arrow. "Just fucking show yourselves!"

Again, silence, but in a second, he felt that wind.

An elbow drove into the back of his already sore ribcage. He lost his breath and stumbled forward. Another strike cut across his face and a third hit his calf. He dropped to his knees. There were three of them—he couldn't see them but he knew from the different strikes, the height and the power behind them, that the attacks were all from different people. He also knew they were not from warriors. Their movements were a bit hesitant, but completely predictable. Even without spiritual pressure, he was able to catch the next strike that he knew would be coming for his face now that he was closer to their level.

"FUCK OFF!" He yanked back on the wrist he'd caught and got a scream from the figure he could finally see now that she wasn't moving at hyper speed. She looked barley older than Yachiru.

She cried something he gathered meant _let go._ He did, but only so he could catch the next wild fist from his right. This time he threw a punch of his own. He caught the boy square in the teeth and he staggered back.

Grimmjow didn't managed to stop the third strike, which nailed him in the back. He pitched forward but rolled up and swung with his flashlight. It caught one of them who cried out and dropped out of flashstep. It was the girl, who held her elbow tight in pain. The boy was still holding his bloody mouth and didn't look eager to rejoin the fight. That left only one—the one who'd gotten him in the back and was clearly the best trained.

He scanned for the third attacker but didn't see him. Instead he noted those at the edge of the lobby, gathering cautiously to watch the fight. There were a lot of them: bedraggled, ratty children. They were hushed and wide eyed and peering at him from behind locker doors and walls. He noticed the ones with arrows above, and a few hefting rocks from their perch, but none of them probably had the confidence to strike him without getting their allies. He guessed it was just these three with spiritual pressure if the children weren't intervening.

He took another hit to the gut, but blocked the next he'd predicted would come for his ear and jabbed out. He barely hit anything. The boy stumbled away, breaking from flashstep a moment, just long enough for Grimmjow to see he was in his mid-teens, about the same size as Toshiro. Then he was gone again and Grimmjow went stumbling back from a hard hit to the chest. He ducked, but guessed wrong this time and got hit in the ribs. He straightened again and reached out wild. He was lucky. His fist close around the teen's arm and he brought his flashlight hard into his jaw. The teen reeled back and his eyes flashed sideways to the crowd.

Dammit, Grimmjow had been wrong—there were more who could use flashstep.

He wasn't even sure which one it was, but someone from the encroaching crowd joined in and he was once again on the defensive. He only took one more hit before he realized what they'd been doing all along: they'd back him up, all way across the room to that trap he'd seen earlier. He only realized when his foot was in the loop and the boy before him gave a cry. Someone released a switch, Grimmjow felt the cable snag tight around his boot and next thing he hit the floor before he was dragged up by his ankle and hanging helpless in the air.

"Fucking kids…" he bounced on the cable, staring up at faces no older than Yachiru's who were grinning cheerfully down at him. He looked back down to the boy he'd been fighting. He wasn't smiling. He was serious and rubbing his bruised jaw. The rest of the children who'd been hiding now swelled out behind him. Some were cheering but others were frightened and cowering behind the older ones, others still just oogled at him with their friends. There had to be fifty of them at least. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

The serious boy shouted something up to him. He didn't understand it.

"Japanese," he called down. The boy frowned and reformed his words.

"Why you here?"

"For the kids you took!"

"Why?" he said again. "You father?"

"No."

The boy frowned. Grimmjow let out a frustrated noise. What was his fucking problem?

"Just let me the fuck go."

"You adult."

"Yes, I'm adult, now listen to me and let me go!"

He lurched up, trying to swing himself upright and grab the cable that held him. The movement violently shook the wheel to which the cable was attached. He stilled and glanced down again. It was a full story drop and he'd probably land on his head. Dammit. These kids might actually kill him.

"You better stop," the boy warned.

"You better let me down."

"You danger. You adult."

He let out a sigh. He wasn't getting anywhere and his head was starting to throb from the blood pressure being forced into it. He'd pass out in a matter of minutes. He decided to give up trying to reason with this kid.

"TOSHIRO!" he screamed out. "YACHIRU!" If these messed up kids thought they'd rescued the reapers from him, maybe they weren't actually being held prisoner.

He had to hope, because otherwise, he was fucked.

"Stop shouting!" the boy warned him.

"Fuck you." He felt a jolt and looked up. The homemade trap was definitely letting go. The children below him backed up. Great. "You plan on killing me?" he challenged the boy.

"You adult," he shrugged coolly, like it explained everything.

Grimmjow glared at him, then he felt the contraption give completely.

Fuck. He hated kids.

* * *

This time, he woke on his back. He didn't even remember striking the floor, but he'd know as he was falling it might be enough to snap his neck. He knew he hadn't moved from where he'd fallen—he could see the remains of the trap dangling from the landing above him.

"Don't move."

He didn't, but his eyes travelled sideways and he saw the serious teenage face—the one he'd come here to find.

"Toshiro."

"Just stay still," he said again, putting a hand on Grimmjow's chest. "You may have broken your neck."

"What?"

"Don't worry, it's mostly better."

"What?" he just said again but Toshiro nodded behind him. He couldn't see the person there, just fingers stretched above his head, a faint light emanating from them, just like when Yuzu healed him.

"They've been healing you all day."

"Who, reapers?"

"No." Toshiro looked past Grimmjow. He wanted to turn and see but he also wanted to make sure he didn't end up paralyzed so he didn't move. "These children have already learned to use healing techniques with their spiritual pressure. It's really quite amazing."

"Yeah, so glad they're healing me after nearly killing me."

"They have their reasons for mistrusting adults."

"Well you're still a brat so what happened to you?"

"They thought you'd snatched us. It seems adults in the region—particularly these clans we've heard so much about—have been exploiting children for labour for years. When they found out some of these children have spiritual pressure, they started abducting them. Several have banded together here, to protect themselves."

"Who are they, though?"

"They were children from the rukongai—far from any districts near the Seireitei. Judging by their abilities here, they could very well have been soul reapers had the Clash not occurred. We're very fortunate they've honed their skills so much, or you might have died."

"Yeah, 'cause you two got yourselves caught."

Toshiro glanced away. They were both embarrassed to have been apprehended by these children, so they both decided to let it drop.

"So I take it you intervened," Grimmjow continued.

"Yes. I heard you call our names. I did not know they had confronted you. We were told you'd simply been stripped of your weapon and left alone. We wanted to find out who these children were before we left. We didn't think you'd be in danger."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes. The only reason he'd been in danger was because he spent all night trying to save these two. He should have just left them to it.

"Whatever. Just tell me how much longer."

Toshiro looked him over, then he held out his own hands. Neither Toshiro nor Yachiru had tried healing very much. It seemed to tire them out very quickly and since they had been receiving frequent visits from Yuzu it hadn't been important to retrain their skills. But Grimmjow knew Toshiro could use enough energy to read injuries. He concentrated a moment, then his features relaxed. "You're fine, but if she continues, she'll undo the concussion as well, so stay put."

"Fine."

"I'll be back."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I want to speak with their leader again. They know much about the goings on up North and your arrival interrupted our discussion."

"So sorry to be an inconvenience," he grunted.

Toshiro paused then and looked down on Grimmjow. "We appreciate the fact you searched for us."

Somehow, his thanks only annoyed Grimmjow more. "Yeah whatever, just go."

He lay still for a long time, eventually shutting his eyes and drifting off again under the tingle of power. Someone shook him awake later and he knew he must be healed. He sat up, a girl, maybe ten, was pointing to his neck and saying something he didn't understand. He tested it out, moving his head this way and that, then nodded. She smiled, but quickly backed away, as if he made her nervous.

He looked around. There were other children nearby, but they also kept their distance. He saw someone helping the little girl. She was exhausted and they took her to lay down by other sleeping children. He wondered if all of them had had a hand in healing him—probably, since the required energy would be significant. He stood up, feeling no after effects of the fall from the trap.

He didn't bother asking for directions. Many of the children glanced nervously in the direction of the stairs and he knew that's where their leader must have gone with Toshiro. He ascended to the second level, but found Yachiru instead. She was half way down the hall, in a large open room full of chairs and desks. He looked at the black board behind her and saw a drawing of a tall figure with spikey hair. He paused in the doorway, smiling at the unmistakable outline of Kenpachi Zaraki. She was speaking in Japanese, but waving her hands expressively and acting out her words for the crowd of tiny children sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was telling them of an adventure before the Clash. Her eyes were lit up with excitement, as were theirs. Grimmjow did not interrupt them, but listened just long enough to hear her describe Kenpachi's violent take-down of the former captain of his squad.

He moved on, and found Toshiro in a quieter hallway. He was just finishing with the leader, who was—as Grimmjow had guessed—the serious faced boy who'd spoken to him earlier.

Grimmjow didn't feel like engaging with him. Some form of apology was made but Grimmjow just gave him the finger. Toshiro glared at him but let it go. So did the leader. He returned to Grimmjow his weapons and his soul pager.

"Just tell me we're leaving." Grimmjow said when they were alone.

"They've offered us food and shelter. I say we take it for the night."

Grimmjow shook his head but Toshiro argued there was barely an hour of daylight left. Grimmjow rolled his eyes but he wasn't stubborn enough to make them launch out in unfamiliar territory in the dark.

"Have you seen Yachiru?" Toshiro asked.

"Yeah, back that way. I'll meet you later."

He didn't have any intention of staying in this place for the night without checking it out first. He moved alone down dark hallways. The school was very large, and much of it was empty. He paused in many doorways, peering in on emptied rooms. A few had cushions and blankets spread over it. Another had chalk drawings from floor to ceiling. He entered what must have been the meal hall. It was large and still set up for eating. A kitchen in back had large pots of water and several empty jugs lined up next to it. They must have been collecting rainwater because it didn't seem they had any electricity here.

In the next hallway, he found some of the occupied rooms. When he looked in on one classroom, he saw several children laying on their sides on thin mattresses. One older girl was making the rounds with a dish of water. One child was crying quietly. Sickness was common in this world, and often fatal. The girl briefly made eye contact with him and froze. He raised a hand, to show he was no threat, and moved on.

His anger had faded by the time he made his way back to the lobby. By then he'd seen more beat-up, barefoot children, less lively than the ones who'd been with Yachiru, and he'd lost some of his bitterness.

"Over here!" Yachiru waved him over excitedly. She usually had little to say to him so he was curious when she brought him over to the crowd of children with her. "Best fighter in Japan!" She said, boxing empty air. "Never lost, not once!"

"Ooo…" Some of the ones who understood her gazed at him in awe. Who knew what wild tales she'd told them about him. Then one of them said something and pointed up at the ceiling and there was much giddy laughter. He glanced at the trap and realized they must be laughing at the fact they had caught him. His eyes narrowed and they all went silent immediately.

Yachiru gave him a scolding look then disappeared. He flinched when her foot landed on the top of his head and she made him stagger. "But he's slow." She said cheerily when she landed and suddenly the children were laughing again. He rolled his eyes and left them. He made his way carefully through the traps and back outside where he'd left their belongings. He sat on the front step and watched the sun disappear below the high-rises. When darkness fully settled on them, a few children left the safety of the school. They must fear being seen, and only scavenge for supplies at night. He watched them move almost silently through the clogged streets until they were nothing but indistinguishable shadows.

"Jaggerjaques." Toshiro joined him on the steps. "Food." He offered him a bowl of something. Grimmjow eyed it.

"Did you already eat some?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"Probably best not to know."

"Great," but he ate it because they were already running very low on their own rations.

Toshiro stood and stared into the black before him. "I think we should stay here."

Grimmjow stopped eating and stared up at him. "What?"

"I think these children have the right idea, but they aren't properly trained. We could teach them things that would help them protect themselves better."

"Well they fucking did a good job on me."

"But they didn't kill you—they didn't even have the intention of killing you—and if you really were one of these people they fear, then killing you should have been their first goal."

Toshiro was always serious, but not usually as dark as this. Grimmjow watched him carefully. "What did that kid tell you?"

Toshiro sat with a sigh. "He told me these two warring clans have been looking for any way they can to get the upper hand over the other. They've forced some children to fight for them and others…they've just tried to _extract_ their power, through terrible, cruel means. That's why when they saw you with us, they thought you'd captured us for one of the clans."

"I see. And did he tell you any details about these clans?"

"Just their names: The Zhanshi Clan and the Xue Long Clan. They are not families, as it was in the old days. They are just two very hostile groups trying to take control."

"And now they know some people are regaining their spiritual abilities."

"Yes. But not just people, Jaggerjaques—children. By all accounts, it has only been children to show spiritual abilities thus far."

At this, Grimmjow reacted. "What? Are you telling me I ain't gonna get my powers back?"

"No. It just appears children are regaining the ability first. It doesn't mean you won't eventually get yours restored."

"But we don't know," Grimmjow spat bitterly. "Fucking great."

"We've stumbled upon something important here. These are the first people other than Yachiru and myself that we've met with spiritual powers. I think it's worth it to stay for a while."

Grimmjow let out a long, tired sigh. "Yeah, you're probably right…"

"So you're okay with this?"

"Yeah. You two stay here, do what you have to do."

"Wait, what do you plan to do?"

"Well, by the sounds of it, you and Yachiru will be targets the moment we leave here. I think I should go on alone for a while, scout things out. A couple weeks maybe. That would give you time to train these kids enough, right?"

"I don't know, Jaggerjaques. I'm not sure you should go off on your own. You didn't fare too well last night."

"Fuck you, Toshiro, it only happened 'cause I was trying to save your ass. When I'm on my own, I'll only have my back to watch. It will be easier."

Toshiro pursed his lips, not entirely convinced, but he seemed to understand it was the only compromise he'd get. He nodded. "Two weeks maximum, or we come looking for you."

"Two weeks," Grimmjow agreed.

"Then you better get some sleep tonight. Come back inside."

"Fine." He returned inside the school with the boy. The children were quieting down, but some still listened with rapt attention while Yachiru continued to tell stories of her adventures. She was making zigzagging motions with her hands and then made a loud noise, mimicking an explosion. Grimmjow was quite certain she was relaying their flight from the lightning storm. Grimmjow scanned the rest of the children. He locked onto the leader. "How old is that kid?"

"I don't know. Sixteen, maybe."

"Is that how old you are?"

"Something like that, I suppose."

Grimmjow said nothing, but looking at Toshiro now, or that leader, he saw nothing of the size or strength Ichigo had possessed when he'd first met him in the human world. These children, growing up malnourished and overworked, hadn't seemed to have developed or grown as fast. Toshiro was still a runt in Grimmjow's opinion and Yachiru was starting to catch up to him. He almost grinned at the thought of the pink haired girl someday looking down on her stern-faced companion.

"Well, wake me at dawn," Grimmjow set his pack on the floor and used it as his pillow.

"I will."

Grimmjow still lay awake for a while, his mistrust of strangers deep, but soon the whole room quieted, everyone settling in for the night, only a few keeping watch at the windows. Knowing Toshiro was among them, he gave in and got what rest he could before he struck out on his own.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for your reviews and help with my question! I've decided what to do and it will be addressed a little more specifically in the next chapter. And to answer a question from a guest review: I am planning to release a Point Blank sequel but I have rewritten much of it so it's going to be a bit longer before I publish it. I am also working on other things as well as my current story POW. Thanks again to everyone following this story!**_

 _ **Riza**_


	3. Fireworks in Beijing

_"How is your Mandarin coming?"_

"What?"

"I asked, how is your Mandarin coming? I guess that answers the question."

Grimmjow scowled and squeezed the soul pager tighter. "Quit showing off, Kuchki, you're as annoying as the boy."

"That's because Captain Hitsugaya and I studied hard in the soul reaper academy. It's important to know the basics in the native languages of the surrounding region to one's district, in case you have to help a foreign soul move on."

"I know, he told me all about it." He rolled his eyes but squinted at a sign, trying to make out where he was headed.

"So how are the three of you doing?"

Grimmjow glanced back down the road behind him. He was three days away from the school where he'd left the kids. "Fine," he said dismissively, deciding it best not to tell her he was on his own. "And Karakura?"

"About the same." She told him of some trouble she and Shuhei had dealt with. Then there was little left to say. Rukia's Soul Pager was for their base—the clinic—and couldn't really be tied up for too long. They said their goodbyes and hung up. Grimmjow continued on, meeting some trouble along the way. A few sword swipes and he was in the clear, as well as restocked on cash, food and water.

He'd been skirting Beijing for nearly twenty hours. The sun was close to setting, he decided to enter the city under cover of darkness.

Near midnight, under a clouded moon, he stepped through ornamental gates and entered the throng of a growing civilization—well, it might have been pushing it to call it _civilized_. Though there were clearly hubs of electricity and running water here, it was interspersed in slums of damaged housing and buildings, whole streets that looked like they'd been torn up in past lightning storms and a once, ornate ancient building collapsed under the weight of displaced rock and stone that had pummelled part of the city in the Clash.

But it wasn't the physical characteristics of the city that gave him pause—it was the people. He'd seen debauchery, violence and depravity, in Junction City, but this place was a whole different story. Sure, he saw the back alley grins and crooking fingers from scantily clad people, and stalls with food, liquor and multiple things to light up and smoke. None of these things bothered him—it was the gangs of men and women muscling their way through people who melted away from them. It was the watchers in high windows and the glint of steel in the shadows that had him on edge. This was different from run-of-the-mill crooks and thieves. This was _organized_. There was rank and rule. There was respect and fear. Grimmjow was sure he'd stepped into the thick of the war between the two clans, though at this point it looked to be a cold one. He had heard Beijing was considered practically neutral territory, but not for lack of trying—because the city was too big and populous for either clan to hold sway—yet. Once it became clear who was going to come out on top, the city would likely favour them.

He kept to himself. He didn't even eat. He wanted to get a feel for things and he did that all night and all of the next day, just wandering and watching. He watched the exchanges. Most were using money, some were bartering with bags of powders or leaves. Some even traded kisses and nighttime promises. Grimmjow saw a movie theater alive with activity. He wondered if they'd found old movies to play or if other entertainment was housed inside. He didn't bother finding out. Farther in the massive city, he found shrines and monuments well cared for, even some fresh plants around them. He wondered about this, and discovered there was a calmer section here. He looked up to the large gate and tried to read it. Beyond it was a large building, too big to be a house. It looked old, with iconic arched, stone tiled rooftops. People were still here, but none of the ramshackle shops had been set up in this part of the city and he saw no signs of misdeeds going on here. He thought he was about dead center in the city. He wondered if there was something significant about this place, something even the vermin of this world still respected.

He left the oddly quiet, ancient place and found more trouble. He stopped well back from the stadium, knowing at once what would be inside. It was massive—far larger than the arena used for Cino's glads. The sides were a network of intricately sculpted pieces of metal, making the whole thing look like a giant spider web. To one side of the stadium, a massive curl of red and silver metal rose up, the top lit with flames. Under the light of the giant torch, Grimmjow could make out five interlocking rings of different colours. He didn't know what that was, but it seemed to be something revered here.

There were lights casting down on the center of the arena. Even from this distance, Grimmjow could hear that thunderous roar of cheering and booing. He took another step back, recoiling from the sound and the memories and stepped straight back into someone else.

Grimmjow couldn't understand what they said, but it was clear the guy was royally pissed off Grimmjow had dared to bump into him. And when he glanced the cohort at the man's back, he got a strong suspicion this was one of the clan-related groups in the area.

The man brushed his jacket off with over emphasis, as if Grimmjow had dirtied him. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, an act which did not go unnoticed. They continued to shout at him, but he just took his stance.

There were four, including the leader, who let his men handle things for the moment. He watched on as Grimmjow blocked hit after hit, then, when the opening arose, struck out with such precision and force it crippled.

They had no idea who he was, what he'd survived in this world and just how much practice he had at killing multiple opponents at once. He didn't even have to resort to his sword. His first kick broke one man's kneecap. His first punch broke a second man's jaw. He sustained a hit to his core, but reciprocated with a square-on punch to break the third man's nose. When he was blinking in pain, Grimmjow drove his other fist into the man's solar plexus, causing him to double and then it was easy to end it with a knee so hard to his forehead he fell back on the pavement unmoving. The last man with the broken jaw staggered back toward his leader. But one glance at the man assured him failure wasn't an option, so he mustered his courage and pulled a short blade from his back pocket. He crouched, ready to swipe. Grimmjow drew back slightly, enough to make the man think he was intimidated, and prompt him to hastily lean forward to make the first swipe.

Grimmjow caught his extended arm and thrust all his weight against it, twisting the blade back toward its owner and driving it deep into his own throat, his trembling fingers still locked around the hilt.

He collapsed. Grimmjow looked up to the last man standing. He was completely calm.

"Shit!" Grimmjow threw himself to one side at the last second. The man's smug look was all that warned him there must be a shooter nearby. He scrambled up to his feet after the shot cut through the air where he'd just been standing. He didn't know guns well, but he did remember that deep, reverberating echo caused by the sniper rifle Cino's men had used and Rukia had used to cover his back after his escape from the ring. This was not the same sound. It had a hollow zing, not quite like a hand gun, but he didn't think it sounded quite as powerful as that long range rifle. He had to hope, because otherwise he probably couldn't out-run it.

Dammit. He hated to have to turn tail and run. But he'd hate to be shot in the head a whole lot more. So he had to let the smug bastard go, and run full tilt down the street, hopping dead cars and shoving past people. After rolling under a gate near the arena, he got lost in the crowd. He heard no more shots and was sure that there was no way the man could pursue him in this mess of people both exiting and entering the arena.

He was still outside those strange, branching metal walls. He saw men taking money for the next event. He could see the lit interior, but not much more from this distance. He should go in. He should mix in with the crowd and lay low until he knew it was safe. But he just couldn't bring himself to watch that. He couldn't hand over their dwindling cash in support of it.

So he skirted the perimeter and left from the opposite side, hoping the men hadn't looped around waiting for him.

They weren't. He moved away from the stadium again, toward a wide street with rowdy men and women spilling from numerous drinking establishments.

This _was_ something he could spend their money on. He went into the first run down bar he spotted, threw down some cash and then threw back a drink.

Grimmjow tapped his glass to indicate he wanted more, then turned on his stool, leaning against the bar so his back wasn't exposed. He scanned the dim room around him. It was actually pretty quiet in here. A few men were rolling dice at a back table and swapping money in some sort of bets. A woman leaned heavily on a young man, stroking his leg, her fingers edging closer and closer to the oblivious patron's pockets. The rest were loners like himself, drinking and watching their backs just as closely as he watched his.

He took up his fresh drink and downed it a bit slower. If the locals were that wary on their home turf, then he should be twice as vigilant.

It didn't take long for a boisterous crowd to enter and change the whole atmosphere of the place. Everyone tensed at first glance, and Grimmjow knew at once they were clan members. He still didn't know which clan he'd accidentally offended and then diminished this evening, but in the better light of the tavern he saw marks on the hands of these ones. Some were tattoos and some were red, raised scars, the result of burns, but not from a brand. Girmmjow wasn't sure what tool could leave such intricate marks behind. He couldn't read the characters, but they were all the same, and he caught the murmur, _Zhanshi_ from one of the other patrons.

Their eyes were hard. They scanned the crowd, as if looking for someone. Grimmjow didn't tense. He didn't do anything. If they had his description, there was no hiding. Even in this messed up world, blue was still a stand-out hair colour.

Their eyes paused on him, but swept past. He continued drinking, scanning them in return. They looked grungy, like they'd just come from a fight of their own. There was a woman and two other men with the leader. They all looked down their noses at the other patrons.

After assessing the room, they moved toward the bar and ordered their drinks. They took over the place after that, shoving other patrons out of seats they wanted, throwing their filthy boots up onto a table, yelling constantly for more drinks. They were loud and cackled and fought with one another and occasionally shouted things at others nearby. Grimmjow did not take them for a threat. He guessed the membership to these clans was growing, and that meant accepting less than talented warriors as well as trash that always wanted to rise to the top but couldn't without subjugating themselves to another.

He cringed then, realizing his criticizing thoughts on the group were all too similar to his own past.

"Shit." He gulped the rest of his drink. These were clearly low level members and he wouldn't learn anything here. What he had learned tonight was that these two clans must be huge, for him to stumble so easily upon them twice in the same night. And Beijing wasn't even supposed to be their base of operations.

So far, the two groups he'd seen were quite young. Beijing was a bustling, happening place. It would appeal to the young—well young people like them. Grimmjow wondered if those who were more serious about the cause—the real soldiers—were the ones up North where they were reportedly already in control of certain areas.

Zhanshi. He'd remember that, and the symbol. He only wished he knew who he'd killed tonight. Oh well.

He left the bar and wandered. Many people were out, and from what he'd seen in his observation of the city, the city never really slept. He shouldn't have drank, not having slept himself for a long time. He found his eyes heavy and casting around for a place to spend the night.

A shout rang out from down the street. He couldn't understand the words, but he was quite sure by the pitch and volume, he was the target of the cry.

He looked up, and saw someone with their finger pointed at him. It was a teenager, but he was calling out to others.

Dammit. Grimmjow caught the sudden change in direction of two or three other people along the streets. They had clearly fanned out—and they had clearly been looking for him.

Fuck, his description had spread fast. He shouldn't have stopped at the bar, he should have gone to the opposite side of the city. He'd been stupid, thinking he'd been in the clear.

Now he ran. He didn't know if they had a shooter watching their backs as well. He couldn't risk it. But he was unfamiliar with this place. He kept making turns, trying to get ahead of them, but they seemed to know just where to go to cut him off.

He broke left down a street of a former shopping district. He looked left and right, seeing several smashed glass entry ways to stores. He might lose them in there.

A gun shot went off. He could have sworn he felt the wind rush by his ear. He turned back just enough to see a woman down on one knee, a type of rifle up against her shoulder.

He ran in a zigzag to avoid her shots but it slowed him down and one of the others had taken a side street to cut him off. He didn't even see the guy coming until he jumped past an old bus stop sign and attempted to bowl him over. He failed, because Grimmjow dropped to one knee the moment he was struck and used both hands and the man's momentum to throw him over his shoulder. The man face planted on the ground and Grimmjow stood again only to find the teenager and another man had also caught up to him via the short cut.

The woman still had the gun trained on him. The teen and man were before him. He didn't dare glance away but his only other option would be to run to his right and likely get shot, or try to run backwards into the shattered shop entrance about ten feet behind him.

He raised his hands slightly, as if to say he was giving in, but really giving himself a chance to gauge the threat of each of his opponents.

Then everything turned to bright, coloured light.

"Ack!" Grimmjow cringed back from the sudden eruption of sparkling, coloured explosions of light. The pop and crack of each explosion was deafening. The brilliant display of light was dazing. He staggered back, so did the others, shielding their eyes and covering their ears. Then something else rolled over the ground. One of the attackers cried out something but it was too late. The whole street was instantly flooded in black smoke.

And someone grabbed Grimmjow's arm and ran.

He couldn't see. He was blinded in the thick smoke, eyes streaming and his throat choking up as it became coated in toxins. He was coughing harshly by the time they broke clear of it, and his eyes were running so much he could hardly see. He tried to cough out the smoke but a hand clamped around his mouth and he was forced face first on the ground. He grunted as the weight of the man restraining him fell over top of him. He felt cold, smooth tile beneath his cheek. He struggled a moment but a harsh _shhh_ sounded in his ear and he decided to listen.

It only took seconds for him to hear shouting. It echoed down the street, but he was quite sure they were no longer on the street. There were footsteps not far from where they lay. Then the shouting let up and they were alone again.

He threw his elbow back into whoever was restraining him. The guy reciprocated by punching him in the arm…but not too hard. He let up his hold and rolled from Grimmjow.

"Sheesh, is that how you treat a guy who just saved your life?"

Grimmjow sat up, trying to clear his eyes of the smoke. He let out the coughs he'd been holding in as well.

"Here," a cloth was handed to him. He took it and wiped his face. "Afraid the old Shiba Clan recipe isn't quite the same in this world."

Shiba clan? That wasn't one of the two clans he'd heard about. But it did sound familiar somehow…

"I know you," Grimmjow rasped out when he could finally see again. The man before him was sitting cross legged, a wide grin on his broad face. He had a bandana over his head, and wore an odd mix of traditional and modern clothing. Grimmjow's eyes returned to his face, noting the slashed eyebrow.

"You were with Kurosaki back then."

"Geeze, you don't even remember my name? We went to the soul palace together!"

Grimmjow shrugged. He hadn't really listened to them all when they'd made introductions on the way to face the King of the Vandenreich.

"Well you're Grimmjow Jaggerjaques right?"

"Yeah,"

"Oh come on, you really don't remember me? I'm Ganju!"

"Oh right…" Grimmjow said absently. He vaguely remembered something about this guy's abilities having to do with explosives and the like. "Well thanks, I guess."

" _Thanks I guess?_ Geeze, you're worse than Kurosaki." He brushed the dirt from his clothes and stood. "Well I'll give your manners a pass since we were once allies, but don't expect my sister to do the same."

"Who is your sister?"

"Geeze, you really don't know anything. Just trust me, she's no one you want to cross, and neither are these people you've pissed off."

"Yeah, I gathered that," Grimmjow stood as well. Once standing, he was looking down on the other man. He gave him a once over and crossed his arms. "Fuck."

"What?"

"I just realized who you are."

"You remember me now?"

"No, it's not that. You're the first one."

"The first one what?"

"The first one I've found—what I set out to do. We came to find others from the spiritual world?"

"Really? Who else is here? Who else is still alive?"

"That's a long fuckin' conversation and I'm beat. You got a place?"

"Yeah, I've got a place."

"Then let's get the fuck out of here."

"Just one thing."

"What?"

"Is Kurosaki with you?"

Grimmjow looked the man square on, seeing something close to hope in his eyes.

"Not right now."

"Okay. Let's get back."

Grimmjow nodded and followed the man out. A long conversation was ahead of him, and Ganju wasn't the only one who wanted answers.

If he was here, then who else from the other side might be?

* * *

 _ **Yeya, Grimmjow's first success in finding someone (or rather being found, lol). Thanks for reading! And thanks again everyone for helping me with the language issue for Soul Reapers.**_

 _ **And Kenzie: I still come back to the recovery sequel every now and then and try to figure out what to do with it, so hopefully I will be able to get past my writer's block on it and get it out there someday!**_

 _ **Thanks,**_

 _ **Riza.**_

 ** _Riza_**


	4. Fugitive in Beijing

_Asphalt burned into his back. His chest heaved so hard his lungs burned and his heart thrummed far too loud in his ears._

 _He rolled onto his side and the clinic came into view. He could barely see it, at the end of the street. He was glad, he didn't want to be seen by Rukia or the others in such a pathetic state._

 _He gasped in breaths and shut his eyes. His body hurt all over. He said nothing of this to the others, but every day, the more he moved, the more it hurt. He wanted to sleep all the time. He never wanted to eat what they gave him, but he did. He didn't want any of this—this pathetic existence after saving the world. He didn't want to feel faint and collapse after trying to walk the block by himself._

 _He must have passed out because he was in bed when he woke. His body burned worse than from the heat of the asphalt for knowing they'd found him like that, had to carry him back here like some wounded animal._

 _Rukia tried to console him, promise him it would get better. She tried to assure him he wouldn't be weak forever, or that the hurt he felt would go away eventually._

 _He didn't believe her._

"Jaggerjaques."

He jolted awake. For a second, the room around him was the same as that one back in Karakura. He saw a blue blanket, blurred pictures on the wall, a closet full of teenage clothing that had sadly fit him in the aftermath of the Restoration.

But with a shake from Ganju he came back to the present. They were in a shared bedroom in an old, tall building in South-Central Beijing. The room actually had four bunks, probably once a children's room, but now home to those the Shiba clan took in. Grimmjow noticed the door flung wide and his bed sheets on the floor.

Ganju withdrew, saying nothing. Grimmjow was already sitting upright but now dropped his legs over the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. It had been a while since he'd had such a vivid dream of back then. It used to happen all the time—dreams of not being able to move, or speak or walk. Sometimes they were just disembodied nightmares, other times they were memories.

"You good?" Ganju asked a bit awkwardly. The falsely gruff man hovered a few steps back from the bed. He had been rather weird around Grimmjow since breaking into tears about the news of Ichigo's death a couple of days ago.

"Yeah," Grimmjow grunted out, wiping sleep from his eyes and looking up at him. "Why'd you wake me, that old fart croak yet?"

Ganju frowned and shook his head. He didn't like Grimmjow insulting the bed-ridden soul reaper in the room one story up. The first night Grimmjow had lain awake for hours listening to him cough up a lung. Turned out the man was Rukia's old captain, rescued by some other ex-soul reaper chick named Lisa who'd turned into what they called a virsored when Aizen first turned traitor.

"No, asshole. Wondered if you wanted to go on a run with me into town."

"For what?"

"What else? Intel, and maybe a beer. But if you're too tired—"

"I'm not, let's go." Grimmjow had instantly developed a competitive relationship with Ganju. The guy seemed like an idiot but he knew these streets like the back of his hand and had a lot of connections. Grimmjow had gone out with him yesterday and nearly crossed paths with clan members again—only Ganju's quick actions had saved him. He half hated the guy but had to admit he needed him. And Kukaku—now that was a woman not to mess with.

They met her downstairs on the first floor. She had soberly listened to all of Grimmjow's intel the night of his arrival. Unlike Ganju, she had calmly absorbed the news of Ichigo's death and immediately presumed he had turned Soul Reaper and was still around, saving the world. Grimmjow would never in a million years admit it, but he kind of respected the one-armed warrior woman who was the leader of this weird safe-haven for former spiritual beings.

"Don't you boys stir up trouble for us," she warned as they were leaving, arms crossed beneath her ample bosom. Grimmjow knew better than to look too closely in that direction after a pretty hard punch from the lady.

"We won't, sis." Ganju assured but looked to Grimmjow, "right?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever." He'd already had a lengthy argument about carrying his sword around with him. Ganju told him it was one of the features in his description and that going where they were headed openly armed was not a good idea.

"Try to find out where those Zhanshi assholes are taking kids, alright?" Kukaku called.

"Right!"

Grimmjow said nothing, but that was top on his mind as well. This whole business of collecting spiritual children had been of interesting to him since leaving that school. He followed Ganju out onto the streets. He hadn't ventured out here alone since his encounter with the Zhanshi clan. It was too easy to be spotted with his blue hair, or to accidentally wander into unofficial territory of theirs. Like he'd heard, Beijing was considered a neutral city, but both clans had clearly staked a sort of claim over certain districts. It was dark now, as he followed Ganju through the city. They came all too close to that giant stadium again. Ganju glanced his way when they had to skirt the outer wall and blood thirsty screams could be heard from inside. He must have noticed a reaction in Grimmjow. Grimmjow adamantly kept his eyes on anything but the bandana-wearing ex-spirit.

It took them an hour to reach the seediest underbelly of the city where Ganju was well respected. Back at the house, he was rather meek in the presence of his sister and he wore his good heart on his sleeve. Here, though, he was practically a gang leader. Grimmjow didn't know his past, so to him it was a surprise, but he respected the broad faced man a bit more to see him round up a crew in seconds among the scoundrels of some basement level piss-hole. A handful of them flocked to him like he was their hero. Others waited nearby, listening to see if Ganju was about to propose anything interesting for the night.

"What's the word around town?" he asked in Japanese and then repeated in Chinese.

Many divulged stories of fights between members of the two clans, some fatal, some just shouting matches in the streets, or threats in bars. They told of the latest ranking among glads fighters and the competing prices on alcohol and weapons. Grimmjow quietly absorbed everything he could since they kept switching between Japanese and Chinese, but he still got a lot of information out of the conversations. He'd learned quite a bit already from the Shiba siblings at their residence. They'd shown him maps of the city and detailed what sorts of things went on in which quarters.

The outpouring of information ended with some nervous looks at Grimmjow. Ganju looked at him and then back to his crew.

"What?"

"Do you know your friend's wanted by the Zhanshi?" one of them said.

"I'm aware," Ganju returned. "Rookie mistake," he cracked.

"Hey, I don't give a shit what Clan he was from, he pissed me off," Grimmjow retorted.

"Well you should give a shit," Ganju took a long pull on his beer. "Getting involved in a gang war ain't brave, it's dumb as shit, idiot."

"Fuck you."

"Easy, Jaggerjaques, I'm just saying."

Grimmjow let it drop but sat there sizzling with rage while the crew drank deeper and deeper. He was tempted to get plastered as well but he wasn't about to drop his guard surrounded by seedy people like this while he was a wanted man—even if they were friends with Ganju.

"Best thing for your friend is to get the fuck out of town," one man slurred to Ganju later.

"I'll go when I wanna go," Grimmjow spat back.

"Hey, you!"

The shout came from a few tables behind them, in Chinese, but Grimmjow could guess it was an aggressive salutation from the tone. Ganju's friends turned back but Grimmjow didn't. He heard a chair scrape back. "Hey!" Came the shout again. Ganju turned now to assess the threat.

"Think you got recognized, Jaggerjaques," he muttered, his hand slid from his beer, preparing for a fight. Grimmjow sighed when he heard the boots clomp across the room right up to him.

"Hey," the guy said again, now in Japanese and grabbing Grimmjow's shoulder, "I'm talking to you."

Grimmjow watched the faces around the table. They were ready to have his back just because he was with Ganju. Some of them even looked eager for a throw down. Grimmjow wasn't. He was getting tired of all this shit.

With another sigh he stood and shook out of the hold of the other man, turning to face him.

"Yeah, you're him, ain't ya?" the man said, cocking his head and looking Grimmjow over. "You're that fighter from Japan."

Grimmjow had been waiting for him to say something about the clans. He almost relaxed, but then he noted the guy's face. A dark look was crossing his features as he continued to stare at Grimmjow. He wasn't alone either. The men at his back were giving him the same look.

"I heard some weird shit about you," he went on. "I heard a rumor from someone who passed this way, came from the North. Told me he knew why you were the greatest fighter in Japan."

Ganju stood now too. With him, all the others rose, but they didn't know what this man was about to say, only Ganju and Grimmjow did and neither could predict how that was going to go down.

"I heard you were one of them freaks before the clash. One them _hollows._ "

Grimmjow probably should have denied it, or been a little less proud of it, but his heat was rising, his fingers twitching, and he leaned in close to the man that matched him in height and hissed, "So what, you afraid of monsters?"

The guy pulled back, almost as if he was, but rather the look on his face was of disgust. Grimmjow wasn't a stranger to this reaction.

The guy swung first, hard and fast. Grimmjow blocked with his forearm and jabbed straight forward into the man's solar plexus. Spit flew out of his mouth. He clasped his middle and coughed hard. It always amused Grimmjow that these people knew his reputation for being lethal in hand-to-hand combat, and still somehow thought they were going to win. He brought a knee straight up into the hunched man's chest. He collapsed, getting no air. Grimmjow pulled back a fist for the finishing strike, straight to the side of the head to knock the man out cold, but his fist was caught in the air. He whirled back and found one of Ganju's own crew had grabbed him.

"Is it true, asshole?" the guy asked. The same question was on all of their faces. "Were you one of those creatures before the Clash?"

"Knock it off, Ein." Ganju pulled his friend's hand free of Grimmjow but his subordinate just looked at him, betrayed.

"Did you know boss?"

"I know he's an A-1 fighter and you don't want to mess with him," he covered.

If these guys hated hollows too, and Ganju admitted to knowing what he was, he could lose his whole crew and all of his credit on the streets. He'd lose what he'd spent years building with Kukaku and might even be unable to continue helping the formal spiritual beings who passed through the city. All of that was exactly what Ichigo was trying to rebuild, and what Grimmjow had signed up for. Letting Ganju stand up for him now, would be a major mistake. So Grimmjow plastered his best asshole grin on his face and turned to Ganju.

"Sorry Shiba," he said with no apology in his voice. "Your boys are right, I am a hollow. Thought you'd be a good guy to roll with if I could hide who I was but I guess the gig is up."

Many things flitted over Ganju's face. Even in such a short time together, Grimmjow could tell it was tearing him up to play along. He was smart enough to know what Grimmjow was doing, but Grimmjow wasn't sure he was smart enough to play along. Like Ichigo, Ganju's strategy was clouded by other things like loyalty and guilt.

Grimmjow couldn't take the risk. He wasn't sure what Ganju was about to say, so he acted before he could speak. He clenched his fist and went at the gang leader with everything he had. Ganju hadn't been expecting the punch and Grimmjow hadn't held back so it toppled him into one of his buddies in one blow. His subordinate caught his shoulders while Ganju rubbed his jaw and tried to see straight.

Then everyone was on him.

Grimmjow had managed to piss off two separate groups by taking down both their leaders in the span of a few moments. He didn't even know how many men were coming at him. It was reflex as strikes came. He didn't know from who or where, he just blocked whatever he could see and had to take whatever he couldn't. _Just don't let them get you on the ground_ , he told himself. If they got him down, he wouldn't be able to get up again.

Something cracked when Grimmjow threw an elbow back. He glimpsed a young man clasping a hand over his bloody mouth. Someone knotted their fist in the back of Grimmjow's coat. He tried to slip out of it but someone else grabbed his left arm. He took a full kick to the stomach. His abs weren't enough to stop bile lurching up his throat. He lost his breath a moment but slammed his head back, crushing someone's nose. The hold on the back of his coat dropped. He twisted his arm kicked sideways into an ankle. His left arm was free again, but someone jumped bodily onto his back.

Shit, his knees almost gave out at the added weight. He stumbled forward and took a full strike across the face, all the while the man on his back trying to strangle him. He tasted blood and saw spots. His only option was to lean forward and drop a knee, flipping the man from his back. It worked, he landed on someone else but Grimmjow had put himself where he didn't want to be: on the ground.

The kick to his face stole his vision. He felt the dirt packed floor beneath his palms. He couldn't breathe through his nose, it was probably out of place. He had no time to consider the extent of the damage before boots were in his ribs.

He'd seem many men killed this way, on the road or in a bar fight like this. Didn't matter how strong you were, if a gang got you down, all they had to do was keep kicking until you stopped moving.

Instinctively, he curled in on himself to do what he could to protect everything vital from the blows, but he knew he couldn't just lay here and take it. If he didn't do something now, the damage would be too great and there would be no getting out of it.

A kick between his shoulders made him bite down on a scream. One to his leg threatened to pop his knee. This was it, now or never.

He rolled onto his back, exposing his front to all their blows, but he reached up and grabbed the first boot that came in range. He twisted with everything he had and a shriek of pain tore out of one of the men above. The man fell from the circle, not just with a broken ankle, but one so twisted out of place some of the men beside him made faces of shock and disgust. In this world, he'd probably never walk on that foot again.

But Grimmjow wasn't done with him.

He took his life violently, and agonizingly. He lunged on the downed man before any of his friends could stop him. He shoved his thumbs into his eyes sockets and clawed into his face to get the most leverage.

The man's screams silenced the bar. Even when a couple of the men grabbed hold of Grimmjow's arms and around his neck, trying to pull him off, they couldn't. Grimmjow let up just before a definitive kill, leaving the man to suffer a few minutes more, gurgling out in pain, almost brain dead but not quite. Grimmjow didn't even know if he was one of the men from Ganju's band or one of the other group. At this point, it didn't matter. Grimmjow had to do what he had to do to survive.

Or at least he told himself that.

He was hauled back by two men but they were shocked by the horrific and sudden death of the other and they weren't prepared for the attack. Grimmjow allowed the one who had him around the neck to pull him back tight—so tight the man's face was pressed close to his own. Grimmjow leaned back into his shoulder and bit hard on the bottom of his ear lobe. When it started to tear, the man started to scream. He dropped Grimmjow at once before his ear could be torn off but blood was already streaming down the side of his head. This left his companion the only one restraining Grimmjow and he was unprepared for the turn of events. He practically let go of Grimmjow of his own free will, his fighting spirit dissolving under the view of so much horror.

But Grimmjow didn't let him go. He couldn't. He couldn't stop until that fighting spirit had dissolved from everyone.

So he killed this man too, with nothing more than a head butt to the nose and a quick upper thrust with an open palm that drove the broken bone and cartilage into his brain.

It was this death that quelled them. It was this man, already dead, teetering there in the middle of those left standing, and finally collapsing in a heap at their feet that ended the fight. Grimmjow had already struggled his way outside of their circle, but they could easily still pounce on him.

But they didn't. No one moved as he straightened his collar, spit blood and gave them all a look as cold and hollow as the creature they thought him to be. At the back, Ganju was standing, still holding his jaw, but his eyes were wide with shock at what Grimmjow had done. His men were nearly shaking where they stood. Grimmjow backed away from the scene, got to the door and left.

In the street, he clutched the walls and heaved his guts. Beer and blood splashed on broken pavement. He stepped over it and moved along as quickly as he could, sinking into the deepest, darkest shadows he could find. The night was clouded, and when he staggered between two buildings built very close to one another he was in near pitch black. He let himself sink to the ground when he came to a corner so dark he was confident no one would see him until day break. Even he couldn't see anything but a faint light at the edge of the building.

"Dammit," he breathed, patting himself over. He was sweating and shaking from the pain. He knew he shouldn't, but he stripped his coat, trying to cool off the fever of his rage and the rush of heat from frantically firing nerves and his deafening heartbeat. It had been a long time since he'd been beaten this badly. He swallowed several times, trying to get his breathing to even out. Taking off his coat had hurt. There was a sharp pain between his shoulder blades. His elbow didn't want to bend. Sharp pain split over his chest, some deep bruise triggering with the shift of his muscles. He leaned back against damp brick, feeling his sweat trickle from his hairline and down his neck and back. Or maybe it was blood. He could smell it, but it wasn't all his. It had taken no effort at all, to slip back into the skin of a man who'd killed with hesitation for years before he found Ichigo Kurosaki half dead on an overpass behind a cesspool worse than the one he'd just left behind.

Would those spirits say his name when they crossed over to Soul Society, remember his face, tell Yuzu what he'd done to send them there? Would she console them? Befriend them? Shit, knowing who was on the other side made him hate sending assholes there. But then again, if they had restored everything, then maybe they'd restored Hell too, and those men would end up there instead.

And so would he, someday.

He returned his focus to his current predicament and touched up his face to feel his broken nose. He reset it with a long groan of pain and then popped his pinky back into place which had gotten disjointed somewhere in the fray.

"Fuck," he swore again. His ribs weren't broken, that was about the only consolation he could find as he finished his pat down. His knee too, hadn't gone out of place at a particularly bad kick so he supposed he could also be thankful for that.

H sagged back then, shutting his eyes and taking deep breaths. His body was starting to cool from the heat of the fight. He should cover himself with his coat again but he didn't feel like moving that much just yet. Of course he knew he was starting to slip, but he really couldn't bring himself to fight it right now.

 _"Why did you do it?"_

 _Grimmjow watched the quiet face of the teen who held his hands in hers. Her healing powers sank into swollen joints and eased the pain of cracked digits, but it did not erase the stain of blood on them. "Why'd you attack those men?"_

 _"They were a threat," Grimmjow answered. They were alone in the clinic. Outside, Shuhei was tending to the mess of the men who'd come to the clinic looking for trouble._

 _"Rukia said she could have handled it. She said they were going to leave on their own."_

 _"She was wrong," Grimmjow spat out. Yuzu was done healing. Her light faded but her grip on his hands tightened._

 _"It's not the same as back then. You don't have to fight everyone. We can lessen the need for violence. This world can be different."_

 _Grimmjow looked at her, those wide brown eyes full of childhood innocence. The same innocence that had been stained over and over in that gladiator stadium._

 _He drew his hands back from hers and slid off the exam table._

 _"No, it can't."_

 _…._

Grimmjow snapped awake. His chest clenched in pain. He rubbed his sternum remembering the force of the hit. After a few breaths, he found his coat and dragged it back on despite how much it hurt. He hadn't been out long, just drifted for a few minutes. It was all he could allow himself. He had to get back to Kukaku's and get his sword and supplies and then he'd be gone. He hoped maybe he'd get back before Ganju so he wouldn't have to see him again. He wasn't sure how the other was going to take the whole situation, especially if Grimmjow had killed one of his men, and he definitely wasn't up for another fight right now.

He made it about four feet before he was spotted. Someone passing by the mouth of the alley looked straight down the dark corridor and must have been able to see enough movement to know someone was there. Without hesitation, the man stepped into the dark and swooped on him.

"Fuck!" Grimmjow threw up his arms in defense, but they were just grabbed and he was steadied.

"It's me," Ganju whispered. "I figured you'd be hiding."

Grimmjow didn't relax. He jerked his arms back and took a step away.

"Easy," Ganju whispered, closing the distance again. "I get what you did for me back there."

Initially Grimmjow had been covering for Ganju, but by the end he'd just been trying to survive.

"Come on espada, we've got to get you back home before you're found."

"You ain't pissed at me?" Grimmjow tested, weary.

Ganju shrugged. This meant Grimmjow must have killed one of the men he knew. "They brought it on themselves," he just said. His jaw was set, Grimmjow guessed it was the one whose eyes he'd gouged. "I'm sorry," he said after minute. "I never even thought you'd be recognized as a hollow."

"Neither did I," Grimmjow admitted. Very few people in Japan even knew that fact or had ever made the connection. Based on what the guy said, from hearing it from up north, it must have been one of Cino's men who'd leaked the information.

"Okay well can you walk? We've got to get home while it's still dark."

They had hours of darkness yet, but since they'd have to stick to the shadows it might take all night to get there.

"I'm good," Grimmjow said. "Let's go."

He followed Ganju out onto the streets, then through allies, abandoned buildings, up and down twisted, garbage strewn pathways, streets, walkways—anything and everything to throw off pursuers. Then when they got closer to the heart of the city, he took Grimmjow's arm and walked him straight into a mob of people.

He was doing exactly what Grimmjow had done a few nights earlier. He was taking them through the swarms of people circling the glads stadium, hopign to remain anonymous in such a large group. Grimmjow hadn't even noticed they'd gotten this close to the stadium since he'd been so concentrated on keeping up with Ganju while his chest constricted in pain and his knees kept getting shaky. Now he tugged back the moment he realized Ganju was taking them through an unlocked side entrance and in behind the bleachers.

"Come on!" Ganju urged at Grimmjow's resistance and pulled harder on his arm, dragging him forward. Grimmjow was stumbling now, they were relatively alone in this service passageway behind a network of steel supports that spider-worked beneath massive stands of seats.

But through hundreds of tiny gaps Grimmjow kept getting glimpses of the main attraction. They were up a few levels from the stadium floor, and he could see down to several half naked men clashing with dull steel and creative weapons designed to be as gruesome and bloody as possible. He could smell the sweat of the crowd, on their feet and screaming for a particular champion. He could hear the booming voice of an announcer on a loudspeaker and hear the buzz of hot, electric lights. This place was even bigger than that stadium up north. This place was a monolith of metal and concrete, alive with electricity and human blood lust.

"Wait here."

Ganju made him stumbled up several cement steps before releasing his arm and letting him half fall against the ground. Ganju was reading a sign, clearly not quite sure how to get where he wanted to go through this building. Grimmjow straightened himself where he'd fallen against the steps. He sat back on the top one, right behind a row of spectators. He looked up at them, oblivious to his presence. A girl had two hands cupping her mouth to amplify her cheers. A man had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, as if this was some kind of date.

Then Grimmjow lowered his eyes and found he had a clear view straight down an aisle. He was no longer looking at the scene through the filter of stadium legs but had an unmasked view of one man beheading another with an axe. He kept missing the mark, hitting the man's shoulder and chest where he writhed in agony on the ground. Finally he hit his mark and the man went still but there were still others in the ring. Someone was dragging themselves along—his foot a mangled mess behind him. Someone whipped him across the back with a heavy chain.

Grimmjow put a hand over his eyes but kept watching through his fingers. The pain in his chest was getting tighter and tighter.

"Okay I know the way," Ganju's voice was meaningless behind him. He watched dirt churn up under the feet of contestants. He watched blood arch off a blade and heard the bellow of a man not ready to die reach him even here. The clink of chains and smell of blood, the spray of dirt and that roar of the crowds. His breaths were so short he could hardly catch them.

He gasped hard, trying to get air that wouldn't come to him.

"Jaggerjaques!"

A hand wrapped around his neck but his own was clawing into his chest and his head fell back despite Ganju's desperate pleas at him not to fall unconscious.

 _"Whoa, Grimmjow!"_

 _Hands around his shoulders helped him sit up all the way. Air came in thin gasps between his teeth. He blinked through the dark trying to remember where he was and what was going on._

 _"Grimmjow," a steady voice urged him. The hands on his shoulders tightened. He focused through the dark to the young man before him._

 _"K-Kurosaki." His mouth was dry and his voice stuttering. His chest felt tight and sore. He swung his legs over the bed and braced himself there. Ichigo slowly released him when he saw he was steady enough but he noticed his breathing wasn't right._

 _"What's wrong?"_

 _"The air…it ain't right."_

 _Ichigo took an emphatic breath, as if testing it, but since he was already a spirit, the quality of the air probably didn't matter to him._

 _"The air is fine," he said._

 _"No it ain't," Grimmjow argued. "It's too dry, I c-can't get my breath."_

 _Ichigo watched him. Grimmjow drew his head back up, seeing a look on his face he didn't like. "What?"_

 _"It's not the air, Grimmjow."_

 _"Then what is it?"_

 _"I think you're having a panic attack."_

 _Grimmjow's features creased in confusion. "What? Don't be r-ridiculous."_

 _But he had to bow his head again to catch his failing breath. Ichigo moved over to the side table and got him some water. He sipped it back, still convinced all the moisture in the air was gone and that was what was causing the sharp dry intakes or breath that were stabbing through his chest."_

 _"Did you dream about not being able to move again?"_

 _Grimmjow kept having that nightmare, over and over, and rarely made it through the night. But he shook his head._

 _"Then what?"_

 _"Why are you even hear?" Grimmjow diverted._

 _"Just checking in, now stop diverting. What were you dreaming about?"_

 _Grimmjow shook his head again, but his eyes drifted to his knuckles. Ichigo went on, "I heard you had a pretty bad fight today. You're body's definitely not ready for that yet."_

 _"Yeah well tell that to the assholes I fucked up."_

 _"Grimmjow, if you could take them out while you're in this state, then they weren't a threat."_

 _"Eveyone is threat in this world and I ain't weak!"_

 _"Yes you are, Grimmjow. You won't be forever but you haven't healed from everything yet. You don't have to fight anymore."_

 _"Of course I do!" His shout came out a wheeze. Ichigo put a steadying hand on his back and told him to try to slow his breaths. Grimmjow didn't think he could, but somehow with that calm hand on him, he did. Maybe Ichigo cheated and used some of the spiritual healing Yuzu had taught him, whatever the case, after several minutes of trying he did manage to start slowing the tempo of his breathing._

 _"Was it about the glads then?" Ichigo asked him when he had calmed considerably. When Grimmjow didn't answer, he knew he'd hit the mark. "It stands to reason, Grimmjow, after everything that happened there."_

 _"I don't want to talk about it."_

 _"I know, but we're going to anyway."_

 _"I hate you," Grimmjow growled. The hand on his back never lifted. He didn't look up at Ichigo but he could hear the smile in his voice._

 _"I know. I hate you too. Let's get some fresh air."_

 _"Fine."_

"Jaggerjaques," a voice pleaded in his ear. He brought his hand up and grabbed onto whatever could support him. It was Ganju's shoulder and he pulled himself back into a straighter position, bracing his knees like he had that night with Ichigo, trying to breathe. Ganju's eyes shot to the ring and then back to Grimmjow. He frowned.

"Hey espada, that guy said you were a well-known fighter…"

Grimmjow's hand became a vice on Ganju's arm. He knew to shut up, but he waited while Grimmjow did what he had to do to regulate his breaths. He was sweating again, and his muscles were trembling. Wordlessly, Ganju put an arm around his back when they started moving again, supporting him as they walked. They left the horrors of the stadium behind when they opened a service door that went back down to ground level. They took a narrow corridor that curved with the wall right to the opposite side of the stadium and came out another service entrance, back into the night. This way they managed to bypass the busy street corner where Grimmjow had bumped into the gang leader. They quickly left the stadium behind and started moving between more familiar buildings. Grimmjow's feet were becoming less coordinated by the second but then a door swung open in front of them and one of the odd twin men who occupied the Shiba household helped haul him up the stairs and inside.

"I'm fucking fine!" He pulled his arms back out of their hold when he was safely inside.

"What the Hell happened?" Kukaku came down from the upstairs at the noise. "I thought I told you _not_ to start any trouble."

"Fuck you!" Grimmjow threw her the finger and bypassed the stairs to the bathroom. He saw her eyes flare slightly at the sight of him and he heard Ganju quell her anger before she shot something back at him for his rudeness.

He slammed the bathroom door shut behind him. A candle was flickering next to the sink, giving him just enough light to strip his shirt and soak a cloth in the basin of water in the sink. The power flicked on and off here and water was extremely unreliable. He was spoiling a whole basin of it but just wanted to be clean. He made a mess as he tried to wash up with his uncoordinated movements. Water dripped down all over the floor as he scrubbed away the blood on his face and hands and then worked it over where sweat had dried to his chest and neck.

He grabbed the door when he became light headed. He could see in the flickering light, his reflection in a mirror. A deep, dark bruise cut across his face where he'd been kicked. He'd probably taken more blows to the head when he was down but he didn't even remember them.

The door swung open under his hand. Without its support he toppled into the hallway with a groan.

"Idiot," Kukaku spat down at him. "We can help you."

"Just screw off…" he muttered, attempting to get his hands under him and make the world stop spinning.

She put a foot on his shoulder and shoved him back down. He face planted with another curse.

"And quit talking to me like that in my own house, or I'll really kick your ass."

A last curse died in his throat. Despite his stubbornness, he went limp beneath her heel.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note: Please don't read if you haven't finished Bleach and are concerned about *SPOILERS***_

 _ **Well I never meant to wait so long before updating. I have no excuse except that writing has fallen out of my regular schedule and now I'm finding it hard to fit it back in. I wrote this chapter well before the final chapter of Bleach but I didn't get around to editing it until now. Of course, this story is set in an alternate setting of the Bleach Universe, but I will acknowledge now that Ukitake did not survive losing the hand of the Soul King in the canon. When I wrote this, I still had hopes for his survival, and I decided to keep him in the story regardless of the canon. I will also say (as at least one reviewer has pointed out) this story is not a series of one shots as I put in the description. Originally, I had imagined writing a few brief snippets of Grimmjow's adventures with Yachiru and Toshiro (and yeah, Yachiru is definitely not the same as Yachiru in the canon now that we've seen more about her and Kenpachi...) but I can't seem to escape the idea of a complete story. I'm not sure what to do now, since I had all sorts of plans for showing scenes throughout the world. I might complete a story arc in China and then break to smaller scenes throughout the globe or I might just continue pursuing a complete story arc. I'm sorry for not being able to tell you in advance. I'll just have to see where this story takes me. And if you didn't read my update in my most recent story, I will briefly reiterate that I am working on more pieces but I have simply lost the time I used to have to devote to my writing so I can't commit to updating on a regular basis like I once did.**_

 _ **I thank you all for your support and with the end of Bleach, I hope to provide a few more ways in which to explore the characters we've all come to love. Now that I've seen how the manga ended, I will be thinking up ways to continue it in my own way.**_

 _ **Thank you so much,**_

 _ **Riza. A. Winters.**_


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